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She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. ” She was able to go straight to her room without delay, and she at once locked the door with a little sigh of relief. Ramage, regarding it and putting a well-booted foot up on the bottom rail.
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